The Desk
by Nny11
Summary: A Fic for Weetzie06 about Victor and his desk.


AN: Thomas Johnson is my (and Weetzie06's) character. Everything else belongs to Time Burton.

Victor tapped his fingers lightly on his desk. It was a nice desk, all cherry wood with little silver handles. The desk was large and had several drawers that could hold all of Victor's papers, books, letters, etc. If someone had asked him, not that anyone would, if he was proud of his desk Victor would have, very proudly, said yes. He supposed he would have lightly run his hands over the heavily buffed wood and lightly caressed its cute little ring stains and nicks. He would have most likely enjoyed a brief glance at his own face on its shinning surface, and then he would probably have smiled at the refection too.

That was…if he still had his old desk. Victor sat miserably at his desk and simply stared at its surface. Why? Why did she do this to him? Hadn't he been a fine husband? What had he ever done to have her do this to him?

"Is something wrong Victor?" Victoria asked gently. "I…I thought you would have liked it. Your other desk was…well…falling apart and I thought maybe you'd have liked this."

Victor didn't turn his head from the polished, unblemished, _oak_ desk in front of him. He bit his lip lightly. "No, no…it's a fine desk. This new one. Fine." His words had not exactly come out they way he had planned. "Just needs some character now. That'll come threw use, though. Fine desk."

"You do not sound well Victor. Are…are you not pleased with it?" Victoria stared in slight sadness at her husband. He was an honest man, maybe too honest. His emotions clearly showed he was unhappy and the cause was apparently his new desk.

The new desk was beautifully built, from its polished surface to its bronze clawed feet. The desk had called to Victoria with all of its majestic power and promises the Victor would never hunch over his old desk again. It had the look of belonging to someone important. Victoria had easily pictured a man smoking a pipe while muttering life changing ideas, if only someone would listen!

Now she didn't know why this had compelled her to buy the desk. Victor did not smoke, Victor did not hunch over any less, and Victor, though sweet, did not mutter life changing things. The desk, though still nice looking, was not so grand looking within their house. Victoria sighed, the desk looked good and yet it looked terrible with Victor seated at it.

"You can use the old one again if you want. We could give this to your father." She placed a hand upon Victor's shoulder. "I'm sure he would love it."

"No, I love it-it's great!" Victor leapt from his seat and gently hugged Victoria. "There's only a few, very small, things wrong with it. Nothing we can't fix though." He tried to beam at her, but Victoria simply raised her eyebrow.

"What's wrong with it, Victor?" Victoria knew that when the words 'nothing we can't fix' crossed her husband's lips, it meant that there was something seriously wrong that she wouldn't discover with out persuasion.

"Its…well…its oak for one. I'm allergic to oak. It's a little bit short for me, but that's easy to fix. And…and…it's…that's it." Victor fidgeted slightly. "Well…no actually, it-it simply is not my desk. There's no ring from where I put my drinks down, no scratches inflicted upon it by two generations of hyper Van Dort children, and it doesn't have the little inner drawer." Victor made a small hand movement as if to demonstrate how one would open the drawer. "But that does not mean that it is not a perfectly suitable desk for me."

"Victor you are so…uxorious." She gave him a small peck on the cheek. "It is very darling." For a few moments Victor's mouth flapped up and down a few times, before he could speak Victoria gave Johnson a shout. "Thomas, please take this new desk and bring it back to the carriage. Then please bring it to Victor's parent's house."

"Whut? Ah crimeny…" Chucking his shovel down by the horses Johnson, grumbling all the way, began his trek up.

"That really isn't necessary-uxorious and darling?!" Victor, no longer slack jawed, demanded.

"Well…you are." Victoria couldn't help but giggle at Victor's minor fit.

"I am not darling." He shook his head slightly.

"Aw right, jus let _meh_ take this _heavy_ chunk 'o wood _back_ downstairs awl by _me lonesome_." Johnson waited for a response, but seeing that he was interrupting Victor's glaring he took a hold of the desk and dragged half way across the room.

"That is completely unnecessary Johnson. Put it back." Victor sent a firm look at his wife.

With several grumbles renewed, Johnson turned it around a started to drag it again when Victoria stopped him.

"It's a gift for Mr. Van Dort, now please take it out." She glared at Victor. "When you are done, bring Victor's old desk back in."

"Right." Johnson let out a puff of exertion and turned the desk around yet again.

"Leave it here Johnson." Victor huffed to Victoria more than their handy man.

"Riiiight…" Johnson began to turn the desk.

"Take it away. Victor is allergic to oak." Victoria shot a winning look at Victor.

"Cahn I ask yeh this Victor? Why are you alergik to evrehthin'?" Johnson dropped the heavy desk to the floor with a bang.

"I am not allergic to everything. Just as I am not darling or uxorious!" A now reddened Victor glared right at him.

"I never said yeh were cute!" Thomas put his arms up in defense.

"He is cute thought, isn't he?" Victoria asked. "Just darling." With a fond smile she patted Victor's shoulder. "That is nothing to be ashamed of."

Thomas Johnson gave a loud snort and dragged the new desk out the door.

Victor let out a few puffs of air and muttered lightly shaking his head back and forth. "I'll just grab my old desk then."

Victoria couldn't help but grin with satisfaction. "Uxorious, by both meanings darling. Now go and think some poetic thoughts about your old desk."

With one more sputter Victor called down the hall, "I don't have poetic thoughts about desks…usually!"


End file.
